


leave the body (leave it cold)

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, Platonic Relationships, Spooky, Supernatural Elements, Until Dawn AU, the freewood isnt the main focus for once WROW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 11:36:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21243452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: they play horror games all the time. take the piss out of them, don't mind when they die.it isn't a joke, now.





	leave the body (leave it cold)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Waffle-o (XylB)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/gifts).

> SPOOKY MONTH!  
happy spooks, TJ! i had a go with this one i didn't know whatta Fuck i was doing (i want you to know when i found out you were who i was writing for a had a minor panic and all my bones became fearful) but!  
i hope you enjoy!

The first thing Ryan said when he woke up was, “Uh oh.”

This was not his house.

It wasn’t anyone from the office’s house either, and it sure as hell wasn’t anywhere in Stage 5, as far as he could remember. It wasn’t anywhere Meg had asked him to shoot at, or Wes, or Gavin even.

Was this John Mace’s fault? Did John Mace do this?

Did John Mace get him _naked_, he thought, because uh. He certainly wasn’t wearing anything. He just had a towel wrapped around him.

“Okay, very funny,” he called out. “Why’s it so fucking dark in here, guys, c’mon?”

Ryan fumbled around the room for a few seconds, searching for the light switch on the wall. It didn’t seem to work when he found it, so he did the next best thing and squinted to see if there was anything to help.

Eventually, he found the blinds, and drew them up, letting bright, full moonlight into what he could now see was a bathroom. The tub was full of water, and unlit candles sat just on the edge of nearly ever counter‒ a box of matches and a pile of clothing were just below the unusable lightswitch near the door. He bit the inside of his cheek. This place was... familiar, somehow, but he couldn’t place why.

The bathwater was still steaming, freshly drawn, soap still bubbling at the edges. He didn’t like this at all, and started slipping into the clothing that was left for him.

The main hall of the house was just as dark, and just as unrecognizable.

He was in a two-story place, with a grand staircase and lots of dark wood details. In the dark, it was harder to tell, but the house looked more like a vacation home than a well-lived one, with layers of dust on bookshelves and picture frames that held photos of strangers. Each picture showed the same five people, either on their own or apart‒ clearly a family. Two parents, two daughters, and a son; again, familiar to Ryan, but strangers all the same.

“Guys?” he called again, using the banister’s railing to descend downwards. “Anyone around?”

Making his way to the front door, he racked his brain as to reasons he would be here‒ Haunter shoot, maybe? The place seemed creepy enough, but almost too modern for it. Did Gavin think this would be a good filming spot for a Slow Mo shoot? And he questioned if he’d been there before too. The deja vu was bugging him, god damn, where the hell was this place _from_?

When he opened the door, he was blasted with frozen air.

The snow bit at his uncovered skin and Ryan slammed the door shut again, shivering from the short exposure. “What the fuck,” he whispered, stepping back from the door. “What the _fuck_.”

It was August. It was the middle of August.

Wherever he was, he was nowhere near where he _should _have been. Another look through a window showed him a vast expanse of mountain range, blanketed in white and pine trees sprouting in nearly every direction.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” he whispered to himself, palm against the frosted glass. “It doesn’t‒ I don’t understand.”

A crash from the back of the house had him whip around, nerves already frayed from the unfamiliar setting. He couldn’t do much other than just stand there, and wait. There was no chance he’d be able to escape anything _chasing _him if he went outside, not without a jacket, and there’d been no jacket left for him upstairs.

_An escape room? _he wondered, hands fumbling blinding beside him for some type of protection. _Haunted house. A fucking nightmare I’ve dreamed up because it’s too hot in the room because Gavin forgot to turn the AC on. Maybe I just told him to keep it off, the bills are high, if that’s the case, I shouldn’t have asked that of him, how the fuck do I wake up from a lucid dream_‒

Another crash, and his hands closed around a fire poker laying on the bookshelf. He brandished it in front of him with shaking hands.

“Whoever the fuck that is, stay the _hell _away from me!”

And then had the sudden revelation that maybe hey, not to go shouting that at potential murderers, Ryan, you fucking moron.

“Ryan? Is that you?”

Okay, thank christ. That’s not a murderer.

Geoff barrelled through the door into the main hall and slumped in relief when he saw Ryan. He then _ran _over, panicked once more, and grabbed Ryan by the wrist, dragging him towards a closed room on the other side of the hall. “We need to go. _Now_. I don’t know when it’s coming, but it fucking is.”

“When _what _is coming?” Ryan pulled his arm from Geoff’s grip and rubbed at it. The older gent had a very tight grip, and he kept glancing over Ryan’s shoulder towards the front door and windows, wide eyed and clearly shaken. Ryan had relaxed when he’d known at least _one _person he knew was with him, but now he felt his nerves striking up again. “Geoff, what the fuck is going on?”

“You don’t recognize it?” his boss said in a low tone. “Were you in a different one before this?”

“Different _what_?”

“Game,” Geoff said, like it all made sense, and started dragging Ryan again as he talked. “We all were in a different game before this, you should have been too, probably.”

“We?”

“Jack, Michael and Jeremy are in the back room, and there’s evidence that Gav was with me in the cabin before I woke up, but I don’t‒ I think he woke up before me. Left me a note. Don’t know where he went. I hope to god he wasn’t dragged off.”

“Dragged‒ _what_?” Fear gripped his heart, ice cold like he’d stepped outside once more. “Geoff, I don’t understand, please, is everything okay?”

“Don’t you recognize it?” Geoff hissed. “The mountains, the chill, the pictures of Josh and his sisters.”

“Josh?” Ryan furrowed his brow. “Why do I‒ who is‒”

“He looks like Rami Malek. Kid from Mr. Robot?”

“Yeah!” Ryan exclaimed, and Geoff shushed him furiously. Confused, he complied as he continued, “Why not just call him Rami?”

“Because it’s _not him_,” Geoff said, and pointed to something in one of the darker corners of the hall, thrown on the floor and made of wood. “Do you know what that is?”

“It’s‒” he blinked, and knelt down. “It’s a totem?”

Realization began to sink in, just before he touched it, and he yanked his hand back. It was shaking and he fell back onto his ass on the floor. “Geoff, what the fuck, what the _fuck_ is going on, please tell me I’m fucking dreaming‒”

“You aren’t,” Geoff said somberly, and Ryan knew why he was being quiet now. “Ryan, you aren’t.”

The creatures that were coming for them had heightened hearing, and although they could not see them well if they weren’t moving, too much of anything could mean death for the both of them. Ryan didn’t want to find out what that meant, here.

“We’re trapped in Until Dawn, Ryan. We’re trapped in a fucking horror game.”

“You said you were in a different game?”

“Yeah, I’m guessing you weren’t?”

“Not that I can remember, no.”

“Huh,” Geoff said, and opened the door to the where the others were turned towards the windows warily. As the door squeaked, just the tiniest bit, all three of them jumped, and even Ryan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in anticipation of an attack. The three men turned to them, and as Geoff locked the door behind him, Jeremy was already hugging Ryan.

“Jesus,” the shorter man breathed. “It’s good to fuckin’ see you.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you guys too. Waking up naked and alone in a stranger’s place isn’t ideal.”

“You’re Sam, then,” Jack said, scribbling something down in a notebook. “I don’t think it matters, but it’s good to figure it out, just in case.”

“Right,” Michael said. “Important to see how we _die_.”

“_Michael_.”

“What? It’s true. There’s no other point to that.”

“Who’s who, then?” Ryan asked, trying not to think too hard about each person’s death.

“I’m Mike,” Geoff said. “Fitting enough. Michael’s Ashley, and Jeremy’s Chris. Jack might be Matt, and Gavin‒”

“If he’s really here,” Michael interjected, earning a stern look from Jack, but Ryan could tell Michael was only lashing out in anger to replace his fear.

“Gavin _might _be Jessica. I’m not sure, though. There was only his phone in the cabin when I woke up‒ the one where Mike and Jess go to, uh. Fuck.”

“You were gonna fuck Gavin, Geoff?” Jeremy joked, and Geoff blanched. Ryan felt his gut twist.

“Doesn’t Jess get dragged off by the wendigo?”

Jack nodded slowly. Ryan desperately tried not to think too hard about that.

“Hope Gav’s not here for real, then,” he said instead, hoping there was nothing about the way he said it that gave him away.

No one knew Gavin and him were dating, after all. There was nothing wrong with the two of them being together‒ it was more that the two of them were nervous about others finding out, even after they’d already moved in together and got a dog and cat. They’d planned on telling them soon enough, especially once Gavin’s green card had been approved. Back at home, Ryan had made a hidden compartment in his desk. The ring was waiting inside for when he would take Gavin out on their anniversary dinner later that month.

“And if he is,” Jack said, “I hope he’s alright.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said quietly. “Me too.”

“The other games,” Geoff brought up after a small pause, “you said you don’t remember yours?”

“Nah,” Ryan replied. “Did you?”

“Immediately,” Jeremy said, looking up from where he was leaning over Jack’s shoulder. “We were all alone, before, as far as we can tell. I was in some Resident Evil game‒ think it might’ve been seven? With the mold monsters?”

“Yeah, that’s seven,” Michael nodded, his leg suddenly bouncing with nerves. “I uh. I was in Five Night’s. Remind me not to ever go to Chuck E. Cheese in my life.”

“We won’t make you play the VR game, Gav can do that on his own.”

“I was in, uh. Layers of Fear,” Jack said, jotting things down absentmindedly, and Ryan laughed humorlessly.

“Geoff?”

“Was in P.T.”

“Oh, Christ,” Ryan laughed again. “You do alright?”

“It just kept going, dude,” Geoff said, shaking his head. “Just kept fuckin’ going. If I ever walk into another house like that again, I’ll fucking scream. Think I’ll freak out if I hear a _baby _cry, dude.”

“That’s fair,” Ryan said. “But yeah, I don’t... remember anything, from waking up? I was just _up_, naked in the bathroom.”

“Hot,” Jeremy interjected absentmindedly. Michael smacked his head.

“Okay,” Jack said, finally putting the pen down. “I think I’ve got everything we need to get through this.”

“Right now, we’re at the part where Josh chases Sam through the house. There is no Josh here, though‒ Michael and Jeremy woke up in the basement where they were in that Saw trap, but there was no third fake body, no recording over the speakers to make a choice. In the game, we’re all meant to be split up by this point‒ Geoff is meant to be looking for G‒ _Jessica _in the mines and sanitorium, and if I’m Matt then I’m supposed to be climbing up the tower to call the police, I think. At some point, the three of you are meant to meet that guy with the flamethrower outside and then run in _here_ to end up with the whole finale. Gas leak, such and such, place blows up, rescue comes at dawn.”

Jack looked up from his notebook. Ryan swallowed, running it all over in his head, constantly getting stuck on the stumble over Jessica’s name. _Gavin_, he kept thinking. _Gavin’s in the mines, Gavin’s in the mines alone, dragged off by the wendigos‒_

“So we just... wait it out, right?” Geoff asked, nails digging into his arms hard enough to leave marks in his skin. “Like, nothing’s gonna happen if we stay in?”

“No!” Both Jack and Ryan said immediately, but Jack continued. “No, we can’t just _wait _it out. We wait it out, no one comes. No rescue. We die by wendigos‒ they’ll smell us out eventually, hear us moving around. They _will _find us. And I don’t know what happens when...”

No one said a word. Ryan felt a shiver run up his spine as the cold from outside began to leak into the room, freezing their hearts over as their hopes were shattered at the thought.

“I’ll‒” Michael bit his lip, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I can go to the tower. I’ll call for help, and then. Fuck, dude, I don’t know.”

“If you go, I’ll go too,” Ryan said. Something in the back of his head was nagging at him to not let Michael go alone, but he couldn’t place what. “I’ll watch your back while we go.”

“Take a lighter and some hairspray cans. It’s the best we’ve got, for now‒ the shotgun’s in the sanatorium.”

“Thought it was somewhere else,” Jack muttered, turning immediately back to his book. “Wasn’t it in the house with us? Maybe the lodge where Mike and Jess were...”

Jeremy handed them the items with a nervous smile, his hands lingering over theirs briefly before nodding towards the door. “Good luck, you guys. Come back safe.”

“Yeah, man, of course,” Michael said, but Ryan could only smile back. He didn’t trust his words.

The two of them tugged their heavy coats on, along with backpacks full of hairspray and pockets full of lighters. Michael grabbed a keychain sized flashlight and tugged a hat on over his ears, flattening his curls down to his forehead and making him look almost childish in the dark hall. Ryan pulled his own jacket closer to his chest, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Let’s go,” Michael said, and pulled a scarf up over his mouth as he slowly opened the door. Ryan did the same, and took slow, careful steps out into the snow. It crunched too loudly beneath his feet, and he winced with every step.

The door closed behind them, and they began to trek deeper into the woods.

In the distance, against the cloudy dark skies, that blinking red light of the tower was their only guide‒ too dark to read the map, and neither of them were willing to flick the flashlight on. The howling wind and their shoes in the snow were the only sounds, and it made Ryan unreasonably nervous, anxieties making his stomach feel like a sack of bricks, curling around his neck like a collar and making him choke. His breath felt heavy, like he was reaching into the dregs of his lungs just to exhale.

Beside him, Michael pressed his fist close to his mouth, keeping his scarf up and wincing every time the sharp winds changed directions, cutting at his exposed skin. “Jesus christ,” he murmured, barely audible to Ryan. The elder man glanced over and made a questioning grunt.

“Nothin’, just. I’ve been in snow storms before, but nothing like this.”

“Special case, I guess,” Ryan managed, feeling nauseous the second he opened his mouth. “Video game logic.”

Michael barked a short laugh, and the jarring noise made Ryan freeze up. Michael froze too, and the way his eyes crinkled made Ryan notice his grimace. “Sorry.”

“We’re not used to it,” Ryan said. “Being _quiet_.”

“No,” Michael said in return. “We sure as hell are not.”

And the walk continued like that, high strung and anxious.

Ryan remembered it just before it happened.

“The deer,” he whispered. “The deer, Michael, don’t fucking punch the‒”

The treeline broke, and the two of them held their breath as the herd appeared to them, unnatural and unsettling. Ryan grabbed at Michael’s arm to stop him from moving any further. It occurred to him, suddenly, that it was so much _different _from when they’d been encompassed by trees. In the open, there was no wind, no echo, no feeling of being constantly watched, from every direction. In the open, Ryan felt marginally safer.

Marginally. The deer snorted softly at the two of them, all at once, eyes reflecting light that wasn’t there.

“Okay,” Michael whispered, and began to move very slowly.

With every inch forward, through the herd, all the deer would move their heads together to watch the two of them push forward towards the path. Some of the deer had dark stains around their mouths, unnatural sharpness in their gleaming eyes, patches of fur missing from their neck. There was something inhuman about them, something so out of place‒ Ryan had seen deer before, but never like this. _Video game_, he reminded himself, even as he felt the cold snap at his skin. _It’s only a video game_.

But he wasn’t entirely sure it _was_. They had no proof of what was going on‒ only vague memories and ideas, the knowledge that _yes, _this was the same setting and scenario as Until Dawn. But how the _hell _was it possible for them to _be here_, for them to all be part of something like this? Was it a nightmare? Something they were filming and all just... forgot about? Where was his _fucking boyfriend_?

He hissed as something stabbed into his hand, jarred out of his thoughts by Michael pressing his nails tight into his skin. “Dude, calm down,” the lad whispered, though his own voice was shaking. “You almost had a panic attack.”

“I just‒ how the hell did we get here, Michael,” Ryan asked, letting go of the other man's arm as they trekked down the uneven stairs to the base of the radio tower. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Fuckin’ who knows, okay, and who cares. Let’s just. Survive the night, for now.”

“We don’t even know if that’ll fix things. What if one of us dies‒ what if _Gavin_ is dead, right now, and if we do go back he doesn’t come with us, what‒”

Michael stopped as he reached the tower’s metal stairs, whirling on Ryan. “I don’t know, Ryan! I don’t know _anything_, all I know is that at least right now we all have each other, okay! I don’t want to think about being alone anymore! I don’t want to imagine that! You didn’t‒”

He choked on his words and wrapped his arms around himself, realizing he was getting worked up, too loud. Ryan noticed his nails gripping his jacket tightly.

“You didn’t wake up alone, okay?” Michael whispered. “You weren’t _in _one before this, or at least you don’t remember it, and you should count your blessings on that shit. Five Nights was always sort of fucking terrifying, in a funny way, when we played it, but it was easier with Gavin there because for _Gavin_ I had to be brave, and it was easier to push my own fear aside. But when it’s _real_? When you’re trapped in that chair‒ literally _trapped _in it, Ryan, my legs were strapped down‒ when you’re in that chair, in that office, and it’s _real, _then it’s different. Because you smell the old pizza and can feel the sticky stains left by the sodas the day guard spilled and didn’t clean up, and the phone call you get is too loud in the silence, and the _creaking _of metal every time they _move_ as it echoes in the halls from no matter where they are and when they’re at the door before you close it you don’t even need to _look_. You can smell what they are, what the secrets of that place are when they’re _right _there, and that door closing is louder than anything you’ve ever heard in your life‒”

Michael hiccuped, his eyes blown wide and chills racking his body completely. Ryan stepped forward to help him, but Michael stepped back the second he did, driven by instinct. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, Ryan.”

The older man could only watch, unsure of what to do. Michael slid down and sat on the bottom step with the wind ruffling his curls‒ belatedly, Ryan realized his hat was missing, and his scarf. The snow didn’t seem to bother him, though, too wrapped up in his thoughts and fears.

“So no,” he finally said, “I don’t have any assurance that we’re getting out of this. I have no assurance that Gavin’s okay, I have no idea if _we’re _safe, I don’t know. I don’t _know_. I just. Wanna take this one step at a time. And I don’t wanna do it alone, anymore.”

“Okay,” Ryan agreed, holding a hand out. “You won’t have to.”

Ryan couldn’t hear what the people over the radio were saying, but judging by Michael’s response, it was the usual.

“Fuck,” Michael whispered when the thing finally shorted out. “_Fuck_. I really hoped‒”

“They’re coming at dawn?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, stretching upwards. “I kind of wanted to just. I thought maybe we could change it.”

“Not part of the game,” Ryan said. “Can’t fix that.”

“Yeah,” Michael sighed. “Yeah, I guess. Do we go back down, then?”

Ryan shrugged, and the younger man began to move around the little office. On his hip was a flare gun that they’d found outside‒ unsure about what to do, Michael had grabbed it, just in case. Ryan agreed, and even now he felt it was for the best.

It was the only feeling he was sure about anymore. His gut churned as the winds swirled snow around them, creaking the metal and bending the trees. His head was pounding and he felt like his skull was splitting open, a hell of a migraine he had no solutions for. He just was so _sure _something was wrong, something was off, but he couldn’t _remember_‒

The pounding got stronger, and louder, and kept echoing. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned as it all got worse, and worse, and _worse_, and the pounding, and‒

“Ryan,” Michael whispered, and he was so quiet compared to the howling and screeching and hissing of‒

Hissing.

Hissing, pounding, _scratching_‒ Ryan couldn’t open his eyes fast enough, whirling his head around to stare at Michael, whose eyes were blown wide open, watching something in the window across from the both of them.

In the corner of his eyes, the shadow in the window moved.

And Ryan’s elbow bumped into a mug, left behind by the guard who was _long _since gone, which fell, and shattered.

The wendigo in the window made the worst noise Ryan had ever heard in his life, and then broke through the window.

A bright blinding light caught Ryan and the creature off guard, and while the creature continued to screech in disarray and anger, Michael grabbed Ryan’s arm and _pulled _him out the door to the balcony edge. The metal creaked in protest, and far, far below, Ryan spotted another two monsters crawling up the tower, hissing at each other, and hissing upwards.

“Gonna fall,” he realized with sudden, haunting clarity, and Michael turned to him with wide, terrified eyes. “The tower’s gonna‒”

Something far below them creaked, and snapped, and the two of them were tumbling, over the railing, as the radio tower broke from the frozen over metal, and the creatures fighting amongst the beams. A single rope tied around the railing dangled above him and for a split second, Ryan saw in slow motion as the snow and the wind and the creatures and the sky all seemed to fade away into crystal clear visuals, frame by frame, the overlay of a slow toned hum brought forth from his memory. Too many SMG videos, he thought, and if he hadn’t been _falling to his death_, he would’ve laughed.

One hand gripped Michael’s, the other, the rope. And for a split second, Ryan was the strongest man in the world. It hurt. It fucking _hurt_, so bad‒

The tower creaked again. Another support snapped and the railing and tower became completely horizontal. The rope unraveled more, and Ryan started to slide down, feeling the rough fibers burn his palm before he gripped tighter. Michael shouted something Ryan couldn’t hear, not over the rushing of the blood in his ears, not over the wind and _screeching _and he slipped further down the rope. Michael shouted again and‒ and‒

A bell tolled in the distance as Ryan ran out of things to hold.

Suddenly, he wasn’t in the snow anymore.

Suddenly, he was crouched in the grass bathed in dim moonlight, the space between his shoulder and collarbone bleeding as a bell rang in the distance, and someone screamed, echoing across the junkyard field. Junkyard? Slaughterhouse? Which one was it again?

Warm, unsettling air blew the grass over as someone’s death crawled across all of their spines. He blinked, and across the way, someone lit up, silhouetted in bright yellow. Running‒ stumbling. Bells tolled again, ringing in his ears. His heartbeat picked up as they ran towards him, slowly at first, getting louder and louder and‒

They fell to the ground, and it picked them up and moved the other direction.

_Third time_, he thought to himself. The generator behind him clanked and rattled loudly, unfinished, and it always would be. The survivor went on the hook, and Ryan watched claws reach downwards from the sky, one final pierce. The glow faded. The wind hit.

The hatch, right in front of him, opened.

And as he jumped in, greeted by a long, empty darkness, bells tolled, and he thought to himself, _when will this end_?

_Why am I alone?_

“Ryan _please_,” someone hissed in his ear.

Ryan blinked. He was being dragged, poorly, across cold rough rock. That didn’t make _sense_, he thought‒ they all had that inhuman strength. Even the teens that made up Legion could’ve carried him. So why...

“Please,” they whispered again. “You gotta get up, they’re coming, we don’t have a lot of time.”

Ryan shuddered. The snow fell.

The..

It was like he’d been forced back into his body, jolted suddenly by his memories finally catching up. “Michael,” he said. “Michael, I remember.”

He looked up. Above him, the lad’s face was red and streaked with tears, but he smiled with tired, grateful relief. “I’m glad,” he said. “We should get up and go. Can you move?”

“Don’t know. We in a hurry?”

A harrowing screech rang out around them before Michael could answer, and Ryan pursed his lips, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Right. _That _part, I forgot about. Where are we?”

“Down in the mines,” Michael said. “It’s where Emily and Matt end up when the tower collapses.”

“I’m starting to think the starting roles don’t matter in the long run,” Ryan grunted. “Seeing as how there _was _no Emily, in the beginning.”

“No, I guess not.”

“You alright?”

“Think my ankle got a little fucked up, but I can walk.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Michael looked at him for a long time before shrugging helplessly. “No, not really. I think we’re all gonna need some serious therapy after this.”

“Hey, no jokes,” Ryan said, and grasped his shoulder.

“I’m not joking,” Michael said. “We’re going to need it, Ryan, I fucking thought I saw you _die_. You’re one of my best friends. You’re like a brother to me, and I thought I’d lost you. Earlier I thought we’d lose Jeremy, because yeah, that saw is rigged, but we didn’t know if it would play exactly to the rules. I am scared to fucking _death_.”

“We all are,” Ryan said with a humorless laugh. “We’re all human, Michael, of course we’re fucking scared. If any of us weren’t we’d be some kind of _super fucked up_.”

Michael pressed his lips together, humming in agreement. Ryan smiled, as reassuring as he could, and then Michael was hugging him tight, warm and unsure, like a child to his parent, and Ryan hugged back.

“We’ll be fine.”

“Don’t give me empty promises, Haywood,” the younger man said, pulling away and wiping his arm across his nose. “We aren’t gonna be anything, not yet.”

“Alright then,” Ryan said. “Let’s explore.”

The mine shafts were a lot more claustrophobic in person.

Ryan was reminded that the characters in the game were mostly young adults, and, you know, not _real_ people. The stages were built specifically for them.

But stepping in to the small, man made tunnels left Ryan feeling like he needed to stoop to fit‒ he didn’t, but the beams felt like they were a lot closer to his head than they appeared. The dust and falling dirt didn’t help the feeling. It was like the world was shifting the further in they went, and with every step, they changed how things were around them, how things would eventually turn out.

The keychain flashlight was flickering, and Ryan could tell Michael wasn’t as bothered by his ankle, anymore, with the way he wasn’t limping. The whole area was like a maze, and he didn’t know how long they’d been going on for, on and on in endless darkness, terrifying noises echoing all around them from far away.

“Do you think,” Michael asked lowly as they made their way through, “they’ll try to lure us away from one another?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” They stepped out into an open cave, more natural, with some fallen structures near some of the walls. Water dripped in the distance and Ryan was reminded of the pool that Josh had been dragged off in. “Did it to Ashley in the main game, didn’t they? Sounded like Jessica?”

“Do you think it’ll sound like Ga‒”

A low growl interrupted them, and they both froze in place.

They’d gotten careless.

Though the cave lacked much light, they could see milky white eyes, empty of anything, clear in the darkness. “Oh, god,” Michael whispered.

“Don’t move,” Ryan said in return. “Don’t even breathe. It may not have‒”

The wendigo screeched, ear splittingly loud, and Ryan’s words died on the tip of his tongue.

For all that he tried, he just couldn’t move, gripped by invisible hands as he focused on the creature as it came further into the light, focused on both of them, creeping ever closer.

Wendigo claws looked an awful lot like hooks.

Ryan grasped his fists tight and fought the urge to struggle, knowing movement would only make the creature attack faster. Michael had stood completely still, only barely shaking where he stood with tears running down his face in silent, terrified resignation.

_I don’t wanna die, _he mouthed, a last second cry for help, begging for a final intervention. _Please, God, I don’t wanna‒_

A brilliant burst of light suddenly flared from down the tunnel. The wendigo screamed, a haunted, shattered sound, as flames curled around it and tore into its skeletal body.

Another burst, another scream‒ this one petered out slowly, echoing around the cavern and out into the night. The two of them fell backwards onto the ground.

And from the darkness, out of the smoke behind the creature’s body, came a familiar figure.

“I am so fucking tired,” Gavin said, hands shaking as he gripped the flamethrower with white knuckles, “of all this utter bullshit.”

“Where the fuck have you been?” Michael asked, wiping at his cheeks angrily, and Gavin sighed.

“Down here,” he said, reaching out to help them both up, “as per the rules of the game. Jess didn’t leave the mines until the end chapters when she met Matt.”

“Right,” Ryan said distantly, his mind running a million miles a second. Gavin gripped his hand and went to pull him up, and Ryan swallowed thickly through the heart that had suddenly jumped up into his throat.

“What’s wrong, lovely Ryan?” he asked, quiet, and gentle, but obviously forced calm. “Did you not miss me?”

“I thought‒ _we _thought‒”

Ryan took a long, slow breath, trying to compose himself‒ but then Gavin just smiled, sad and soft, a smile that had always been reserved for _Ryan_, in the beginning. And it broke the older man with that small relief it brought him. Gavin was here, he thought as he reached up and cupped the lad’s cheek. And Gavin, for now, was _safe_.

Gavin reached up and put his hand over the other’s, a gentle gesture and reassurance. It was exceedingly intimate, and for a moment, Ryan forgot Michael was there, forgot they were in direct danger‒

And then Gavin squeezed his palm tightly, stepping away and smiling tightly at Michael. “Sorry boi,” he said to the other man, whose eyebrows were raised as high as Ryan had ever seen them. “Promise not to tell?”

“Yeah,” Michael said after a moment, smiling shakily back. “I don’t promise shit, boi, there’s a betting pool and if we fucking make it out of here alive, I’m winning.”

Gavin made a little huff of a laugh, pulling Ryan’s hand down to his side and squeezing again. “Sure, boi. Split the winnings, though. We kind of just... told you.”

“Life or death situation.”

“Michael!” Gavin scoffed. “C’mon.”

“We should go,” Ryan murmured. “To the cabin. We’ll probably have to do the finale of the game.”

Michael made a vague grunting noise of agreement, and Gavin hoisted his flamethrower higher. “Are you willing to follow my lead on this?”

“Before‒ I mean,” Ryan shifted. “How are you so _calm _about this, Gav?”

“Probably something to do with the previous game I was in,” he shrugged.

“Which was‒”

“We _really _should go,” Gavin interrupted, something strained in his tone. He let go of Ryan’s hand and began to trek back down the mineshaft he’d come out of, stepping carefully over whatever remained of the wendigo.

Ryan and Michael shared a quick look of confusion and concern before following him out.

“Maybe he doesn’t remember?” Ryan whispered, watching his boyfriend carefully as he methodically made his way down the path. Michael grimaced at another wendigo body they passed.

“No, he does. He _has _to, he even said that’s what changed him.”

“What horror game is so harrowing that it _completely _changes you like that, though? You, me, everyone back at the house‒ we were all scared _shitless_. So how is it that he‒”

“Is so fucking confident? I don’t _know_, dude, he’s not like this when we do playthroughs of anything.”

“Okay,” Ryan said. “We’ll... figure it out later. When we get home.”

“Finish the game, first.”

“Finish the game.”

“_Holy shit_, _Gavin_,” was the first thing out of Geoff’s mouth when they finally got up the stairs. The older man grasped Gavin as tightly as he could, punching a surprised breath out of the lad as he was blindsided by it. “We fucking thought you were dead.”

“Might be soon if you don’t let go and keep your voice down, Geoffers.”

Ryan and Michael greeted Geoff as soon as he pulled away, receiving their own hugs, not quite as tight as the one Gavin had gotten. The brit was warmly embraced by Jack and Jeremy as well, both offering their own relief to him as he smiled to them both. A little sadly, Ryan noted, and a little nervously as well.

“We’ve been setting up while you were gone,” Jack said, clasping Michael’s hands in his. “We only just got back‒ we couldn’t do much with them crawling around, but we managed to start up the generator in the basement and knock the gas line out of place, and we shattered a couple of extra light bulbs, too. Not just the _one_.”

“Same result either way,” Ryan said, nodding in thanks as Jeremy handed him a towel. “_Boom_.”

“The rescue team is for sure on their way,” Michael added, hopping back up on the counter and rolling his ankle around. “Getting back, though, was a _bitch_. We took the long way.”

“Yeah, what the hell took you guys so long?” Jeremy asked, grabbing another towel for Gavin. “And where did you find Gav?”

“Tower collapses,” the two of them said, and Jack gasped.

“I fucking forgot about that‒ god,” he said, turning with apologetic sincerity. “I’m _so _sorry. I wouldn’t have sent the two of you if I’d known.”

“It’s fine, we’re fine. _And _we brought Gavin back. He was underground.”

“So you came back through the mine shafts? How’d you manage that?”

“Gav led us through, right, boi?”

Everyone turned to look at the lad, but his brows were furrowed, and his eyes were distant. The grip on his flamethrower had slackened, and he was gazing emptily at the doorway down the hall, vacant and blank.

“Gav?”

“Shh,” he hissed sharply, not moving. “Shut up for a second.”

The room went quiet. With their voices silenced, the sound around them began to bleed through‒ the trees just outside knocking their branches on the cabin’s higher windows, the whirling of wind against the snow and ice, and the rustling and scratching against the‒

Thumping, scratching, _clawing_‒

Gavin’s grip tightened, and his eyes went sharp.

“Go! _Go!_”

Ryan was the last one through the door into the main house. The wendigo crashed through the back door just as he closed one behind him, letting out a deafening scream that seemed to chill him to the bone as he tripped over his feet running towards the main room. His feet felt heavy against the dark oak floor, like every step he made was louder than he could have ever imagined. The rug pulled beneath him, and he finally breached the doorway, where the gas was thick in the air, cloying his lungs, curling harshly with every breath he took.

He took quick, hurried steps out of the way, into one of the corners just beneath the stairs as the second door broke down just behind him, and the creature screamed just next to him.

And an echoing scream answered.

The second wendigo came skittering down the staircase, leaping from ledge to ledge in search of a fight. Ryan spotted Jack ushering Jeremy out the door, and Geoff standing just beyond him. Gavin was at the other door, one foot over the threshold, grasping the flamethrower tight, next to Michael who was standing at the lightswitch, watching with wide eyes as the creatures prowled the area, screaming at each other. And once, directly in Ryan’s ear.

He remembered the blue triangle. Remembered that _don’t move_, remembered putting the controller down on the table and desperately trying not to bump it as the fictional creatures would scream. He imagined those who hadn’t done what they had probably found it a trial to do.

They had _no idea_.

In real life‒ as real as Ryan believed it to be, anyways‒ it was much worse. Their breath was rotten and overpowered the smell of the gas, like old meat and copper, and unnaturally cold, leaving monstrous saliva across his skin. It took everything in his power not to flinch away or wipe his face right away.

The wendigo on the staircase screamed, and the one next to Ryan immediately leapt away towards it’s counterpart to meet in the middle with scratching nails.

Ryan darted towards Gavin and Michael when he could, wary of every step he took. Every one of his limbs shook. Terror wrung his heart dry and left it beating harshly in his chest, a pounding drum beat with quick tempo that made him choke desperately back on his fear.

Jack and Geoff were out the door. If he listened closely, Ryan could hear the helicopters coming closer up the mountain.

Michael’s hand hovered over the switch, eyes darting back and forth between the fighting monsters and Ryan coming slowly closer. Gavin mouthed something but Ryan couldn’t see. He didn’t know. He couldn’t‒

They screamed at each other again, and did a jump towards each other just below the main chandelier, and grasped at each other in the middle.

Ryan _booked _it.

Things fell off the shelves as he tugged at them for stability, heavy breaths and tears in his eyes as he heard one of them get back up and screech, like nails on a chalkboard, freezing his bones brittle dry. Gavin, in front of him, pointed his flamethrower‒ he’d die. They’d _die_, what‒

Michael pulled him out, and the both of them dove forwards as Gavin, running backwards, brought fire to life at the edge of the gun and threw it as he threw himself backwards.

The three of them tumbled down the path a little ways into Jeremy, Jack and Geoff, who pulled them safely further as the house exploded into _heat_, washing all of them over with the smell of smoke and a comfort that made Ryan want to cry in relief. It was over.

The helicopter’s searchlights poured over them, and Ryan opened his eyes, looking upwards towards their saviors. Gavin, beside him, coughed up black smoke, and Ryan’s relief began to fade into horror.

And then the world went white.

When he woke up, Gavin was still coughing, scratching at his chest and sobbing through short breaths.

“Hey, _hey_,” Ryan said in alarm, reaching across the bed and thumping Gavin gently across the back. “C’mon, don’t‒ don’t do this now, please, _please_.”

Gavin stopped, after a moment, and drew a slow, shuddering breath, wiping at his eyes as he curled closer to Ryan. “Walrider,” he said, his voice shot, and Ryan drew a furrowed brow.

“What?”

“Outlast,” Gavin murmured. “I lived all the way through Outlast, on my own. Do you know what happens at the end of Outlast?”

“I‒”

“The main character gets _possessed_,” Gavin whimpered. “I wasn’t... awake. In the mines, at all. I had no control over myself, I‒ the only time I did was when I met the two of you again. And then it just, he just‒”

“Hey,” Ryan said gently, and drew Gavin closer into his arms. “Hey, hey, shh, hey, we’re okay now. We’re all okay, I promise.”

“We’re _not_‒”

“Maybe not yet,” Ryan told him, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Maybe not for some time. But eventually we’ll be okay again. The worst of it is over.”

There would be nightmares. There would be moments of panic in the office when the lights went off, deeply embedded fear when storms struck. Michael would always hesitate before flipping a lightswitch, and both him and Ryan would be afraid of heights for some time. There would always be those times.

But for _now_, it was okay.


End file.
